them. The time had come to take someone else’s money. She didn’t like it, but desperation had a way of narrowing your options down to the single grimmest one available. There would be time for regrets later, after her life had finally settled down. Until the memories of the freakshow at last began to fade.
But for now...
She pushed through the double doors at the front of the store and strode confidently inside. Except for the pimply clerk behind the counter, the store was empty, as she’d expected. The store was located off a sleepy exit just inside the South Carolina border. The area was sparsely populated and the store itself was a ramshackle relic from another age. There were no security cameras. Someone else would come along sooner or later. There was no way around that. But if she did this fast, she should be able to get gone long before that could become an issue.
She approached the counter, hips swaying, her most radiant smile in place.
The scrawny clerk swallowed a lump in his throat and stared at her tits.
She pulled out the gun and pointed it at his face. “All the money from the register. Now.”
He blinked slowly and looked up at her face. “Huh?”
She screamed and shoved a wire rack of cigarette lighters off the counter. The fake Zippos clattered on the tiled floor. She shoved the gun’s barrel against his forehead. “Open the fucking register or I swear to God I’ll fucking kill you!”
He was shaking now. Tears leaked from his eyes.
“Do it!”
A trembling hand reached for the register.
A bell rang and Heather shrieked, nearly jumping out of her skin.
“Oops. Awkward.”
Heather backed away from the register and wheeled slowly around, trying to keep both the clerk and the interloper in her vision. Actually, it was interlopers, plural. A young girl with shaggy, dyed-black hair and pale skin. Her male companion was slender and wore a shiny black shirt with a flame pattern on the front. It looked like the sort of thing you’d buy from Hot Topic. The girl had a totebag. A hand was dipped casually inside. The young man stared at the gun in Heather’s hand, his eyes wide and radiating fear, but the girl only seemed amused. Heather glanced beyond them and saw an antique automobile parked in front of the store. A big red Galaxie 500. They must have driven up just as she was losing her cool with the clerk, which, by the way, had happened at a stupidly fast speed. She thought about Josh out there in the parking lot. The plan had been for him to lay on the horn if anyone came along. Probably he’d blazed up again and had passed out behind the steering wheel, the fucking idiot.
She pointed the .38 at the guy in the Hot Topic shirt. “Get yourself and your girl over here behind the counter. Don’t make me—”
“Talk to me, not him.”
Heather squinted at the girl. She was smirking. What the hell was wrong with her? She wanted to smack the expression off her insolent face, but there wasn’t time for that. “Whatever. Just do what I—”
The girl’s hand came out of her totebag. “Oops. Look what I have.”
Heather gaped in disbelief as the barrel of the girl’s gun came up and pointed at her belly. This couldn’t be happening. Not only was everything going wrong, it was going wrong in every most fucked up way possible. This was just insane. It was—
BAM!
The bullet punched through Heather’s stomach, propelling her backward into a potato chip display. The bags went flying and Heather tumbled to the floor, the pain ripping at her as she rolled across the tiles. She tried to bring her own gun around to aim at the girl, but it had slipped from her fingers. She slapped at the floor tiles, grasping for the fallen weapon, but her fingers found only smears of her own blood. Heather cried out and lifted her head.
The girl was at the counter now, aiming the gun at the trembling clerk. He raised his hands in a pathetic warding-off gesture.
The guy in the Hot Topic shirt was shaking
But for now...
She pushed through the double doors at the front of the store and strode confidently inside. Except for the pimply clerk behind the counter, the store was empty, as she’d expected. The store was located off a sleepy exit just inside the South Carolina border. The area was sparsely populated and the store itself was a ramshackle relic from another age. There were no security cameras. Someone else would come along sooner or later. There was no way around that. But if she did this fast, she should be able to get gone long before that could become an issue.
She approached the counter, hips swaying, her most radiant smile in place.
The scrawny clerk swallowed a lump in his throat and stared at her tits.
She pulled out the gun and pointed it at his face. “All the money from the register. Now.”
He blinked slowly and looked up at her face. “Huh?”
She screamed and shoved a wire rack of cigarette lighters off the counter. The fake Zippos clattered on the tiled floor. She shoved the gun’s barrel against his forehead. “Open the fucking register or I swear to God I’ll fucking kill you!”
He was shaking now. Tears leaked from his eyes.
“Do it!”
A trembling hand reached for the register.
A bell rang and Heather shrieked, nearly jumping out of her skin.
“Oops. Awkward.”
Heather backed away from the register and wheeled slowly around, trying to keep both the clerk and the interloper in her vision. Actually, it was interlopers, plural. A young girl with shaggy, dyed-black hair and pale skin. Her male companion was slender and wore a shiny black shirt with a flame pattern on the front. It looked like the sort of thing you’d buy from Hot Topic. The girl had a totebag. A hand was dipped casually inside. The young man stared at the gun in Heather’s hand, his eyes wide and radiating fear, but the girl only seemed amused. Heather glanced beyond them and saw an antique automobile parked in front of the store. A big red Galaxie 500. They must have driven up just as she was losing her cool with the clerk, which, by the way, had happened at a stupidly fast speed. She thought about Josh out there in the parking lot. The plan had been for him to lay on the horn if anyone came along. Probably he’d blazed up again and had passed out behind the steering wheel, the fucking idiot.
She pointed the .38 at the guy in the Hot Topic shirt. “Get yourself and your girl over here behind the counter. Don’t make me—”
“Talk to me, not him.”
Heather squinted at the girl. She was smirking. What the hell was wrong with her? She wanted to smack the expression off her insolent face, but there wasn’t time for that. “Whatever. Just do what I—”
The girl’s hand came out of her totebag. “Oops. Look what I have.”
Heather gaped in disbelief as the barrel of the girl’s gun came up and pointed at her belly. This couldn’t be happening. Not only was everything going wrong, it was going wrong in every most fucked up way possible. This was just insane. It was—
BAM!
The bullet punched through Heather’s stomach, propelling her backward into a potato chip display. The bags went flying and Heather tumbled to the floor, the pain ripping at her as she rolled across the tiles. She tried to bring her own gun around to aim at the girl, but it had slipped from her fingers. She slapped at the floor tiles, grasping for the fallen weapon, but her fingers found only smears of her own blood. Heather cried out and lifted her head.
The girl was at the counter now, aiming the gun at the trembling clerk. He raised his hands in a pathetic warding-off gesture.
The guy in the Hot Topic shirt was shaking
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